


Support the Only Way We Can

by alecmagnuslwb



Series: The Immortal Inquisitor and High Warlock of Alicante [8]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Immortal Husbands, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 11:21:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18991639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alecmagnuslwb/pseuds/alecmagnuslwb
Summary: Magnus does his best to still be there for Biscuit, even if he really can't be.





	Support the Only Way We Can

Magnus moves the edge of the large painting, straightening it on the wall. He steps back admiring the work and its placement in the loft lining the wall that greets them as soon as they enter their home. The cascading colors flow down the canvas, a mix of golds and blues with fractals of red and purple behind them. It’s the perfect addition to their home, the first real change to décor that they’ve made since moving the loft to Alicante nearly a month ago.

“That’s pretty,” Alec says rounding the corner, tablet in hand as he attempts to roll up his sleeves to the elbow one-handed.

“It is,” Magnus says with a soft smile still admiring the work before him.

“Where’d you get it?”

“A little gallery in New York that I found by chance when I dropped by yesterday to help Aline with her and Helen’s wedding bands. It houses some student work, it stood out to me.”

Alec hums clearly listening, but a little distracted as he reads something on his tablet, “Who’s the artist?”

“Clary,” Magnus says simply with a soft smile turning his head to Alec who looks up at the painting with more than a passing interest now. He walks over to Magnus sliding the tablet onto the small table by the door.

“So, you didn’t find the gallery by chance at all,” Alec says with a smile as he wraps his hands around Magnus’ waist securely from behind resting his chin on his shoulder. Magnus shrugs, no it hadn’t been by chance, he’d been subtly keeping track of Clary, just to be certain she was okay, from a far distance for months tracking her work down to a small gallery. He made sure she wasn’t there when he walked in, anonymously purchasing the art to support her silently in the only way they can now; reaching out without reaching out, because he may be a powerful man but even he can’t change the will of the angels.

“I bought six,” Magnus explains. “Gave one to Isabelle last night for her office and sent another small one to Maia that she says she’s certain will fit perfectly at the restaurant once she’s the official owner. I was going to send Simon and Luke each one to do with as they please tomorrow.”

Alec kisses his shoulder gently, “That’s only five.”

Magnus exhales leaning back into his husband lifting a hand back to gently card through his hair.

“The last ones for Jace, when he’s ready.”

Each painting he’d chosen with the receiver in mind, the one for Jace having a strange distant resemblance to the outside of Pandemonium where he first met Clary. He knows Jace isn’t ready for the painting to hang on his wall, by far the one still struggling the most to move ahead the way Clary wanted them all too, but when he is, he’s confident his brother-in-law will appreciate it.

Alec tips his forehead to rest on Magnus’ temple and sighs contently before turning back to the painting and quietly admiring it for a few minutes.

“It reminds me of our wedding,” Alec whispers quietly after a while.

Magnus smiles as he traces the line of Alec’s wedding ring. He would have bought them no matter what, simply for the fact of who the artist was, but this one had stood out to him specifically for the exact resemblance Alec is now seeing.

He doesn’t think it means anything, her memories of them are long gone. A sadly confirmed fact when Isabelle had run into her randomly one evening as she headed to Simon’s apartment and there hadn’t been the slightest wave of recognition from Clary. But the paintings all had an air about them that said somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind she still saw the waves of color left behind from the memories long gone. The flow of the blue and gold cascade down like the flowers that surrounded them as they vowed themselves together as husbands; the fractals of red and purple like the light beaming through the stained glass of the New York Institute, like the memory may be gone but the imagery of the surroundings still remains.

It’s a little sad, but it’s mostly beautiful.

**Author's Note:**

> Magnus Bane would 1000000% do this and I know it to be a true fact. 
> 
> As always, find me on tumblr: alecmagnuslwb


End file.
